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?©, Lyda Farrington

"We Ten Or, The Story of the Roses"


Oh, he may now; he may, Phil, only with a longer time! See?"
"I thought of that when Gordon told me what you had told him, and I
begged for some hope of that sort,--begged as I wouldn't now for my own
life, Jack." Phil's voice got so unsteady that he had to stop for a
minute. "After a good deal of talking and pleading," he went on
presently, "I got him to admit that there _is_ a bare chance, on account
of his being so young, that Fee _may_ get around again, in a sort of a
way; but it's too slim to be counted on, and it could only be after a
long time,--two or three years or longer. Dr. Archard'll be in town
to-morrow, and they will consult; but Gordon says he's had cases of this
kind before, and knows the symptoms well. I think he would have given us
hope if he could. You see Fee isn't strong; oh, if it had _only_ been
_I_!--great, uncouth, ugly brute that I am!" Phil struck his hand so
fiercely on the bed that the springs just bounced me up and down.
"Fee's feet and legs are utterly useless," he began again; "his spine
is so weak he can't sit up. Even his fingers are affected,--he can't
close them on anything; he's lost his grip.


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